


This is non-stop baby, you got me going crazy

by RonnieMinor



Series: Of books and boys [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Lydia, Crack, Fluff, Home, Irish Derek, Male-Female Friendship, Meeting the Parents, Multi, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieMinor/pseuds/RonnieMinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which our hero returns home, laments the quality of his friends, eats curly fries... and introduces Derek to his father.</p><p>Not standard at all. </p><p>(Sequel to: Second-hand bookshops are the new romantic backdrops)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is non-stop baby, you got me going crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all the lovely people who left me comments on 'Second-hand bookshops', but especially to the people who asked for a sequel (and suggested ideas for said sequel). You are all fabulous.
> 
> Also, this degenerates into shameless, shameless fluff at the end. You have been warned.
> 
> The title is taken from 'Cameo Lover', by Kimbra.

‘So Lydia tells me that you’re still with that Irish guy who was stalking you at work?’  


Stiles resists the urge to curse and settles for scowling intently at the ceiling of his room. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a rush. ‘Firstly, he wasn’t _stalking_ me – he needed books for his PhD, and he just so happened to come into the shop at times when I was working. Secondly, his name is Derek, not ‘that Irish guy’. And thirdly, since when do you and Lydia talk?’  


‘Since you never tell me anything about what’s going on in your life’, his father says, his voice sounding strange over the phone. ‘If I didn’t speak to Lydia I’d never know more than the fact that you’re still alive and not failing college.’ There’s a pause. ‘So this Derek… he’s a bit older than you, isn’t he?’ Stiles rolls his eyes, making a mental note to disown Lydia as his best female friend.  


‘Yes Dad, he’s a bit older than me. It's a wide and mighty age gap of ever so slightly more than six years – I know, I know, he’s _ancient_.’  


‘Sarcasm doesn’t make you cute Stiles’, his father says drily. ‘And six years is a big deal when you’re young. He was in college before you finished middle school.’  


Stiles makes another mental note – this one is to disown his father – and heaves a sigh. ‘Ok, so you have officially managed to make my boyfriend sound like a paedophile. Nice one, Dad.’ He frowns. ‘Look, I know it’s a bigger gap than you’d like, but we’re both consenting adults here. It’s not like he’s cradle robbing me, or committing statutory rape or anything. And besides, it’s not like I can’t handle myself. If I didn’t want to be with Derek, I wouldn’t be.’  


His father still doesn’t sound happy. ‘I know what you’re saying Stiles, but still – how well do you really know Derek? I know you both study at the same place, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.’  


Stiles has an internal debate with himself for a moment or two before he says, ‘Well, umm, actually, I kind of had a background check done on him and he’s _fine_. His record’s completely clean.’  


The Sheriff makes a long suffering noise. ‘Stiles, you know you’re not supposed to look at other peoples’ criminal records without their permission. It’s called invasion of privacy. Some people take it very seriously.’  


‘It’s not my fault that I grew up being hyper-vigilant!’ Stiles says indignantly, ignoring the twist of guilt in his gut. ‘Seriously, if you hadn’t been a cop, there’s no way I would feel the need to run a background check on everyone I’m close to.’  


His father sighs. ‘Does Derek know that you did this?’  


Stiles shakes his head, then realises that the action can’t be seen. ‘Nope.’  


‘Are you going to tell him about it?’  


More head shaking. ‘No, no, definitely not. I think that would come under the heading of "bad idea".’  


There’s another sigh. ‘I think you’re right. I also think you should stop digging around into Derek’s past. If he wants you to know about his life, he’ll tell you himself. After all, how would you feel if you found out that someone knew all about _you_ – all about your mother, and your problems with school?’  


Stiles grimaces, his stomach churning. ‘Yeah Dad, you’re right. That would suck.’ He sighs. ‘I won’t dig up anything else’, he says, deciding that it’s probably better not to mention Lydia’s file on Derek.  


‘I’m glad to hear it’, his father says. ‘Now, when is Derek coming over to visit?’

* * *

‘I hate you’, Stiles whines as he gets into work. ‘I hate you a lot.’  


Lydia doesn’t even look up from the accounts book. ‘No you don’t. You’re just mad that I told your dad about Derek because you aren’t man enough to do it yourself.’  


‘ _Hate you_ ’, Stiles hisses, heading to the back to drop his things. When he comes back, he angrily puts Lydia’s coffee down on the till. ‘Thanks to you, my dad is under the impression that Derek is some kind of cradle-snatching pervert. My dad! The Sheriff! You know, man who has legal access to several guns, and a great awareness of all kind of obscure reasons to lock people up!’  


Lydia shrugs, seemingly completely unbothered by Stiles’ panic attack. ‘It’s not like he can do anything to Derek from California. And I didn’t say anything bad about Derek. I just gave an accurate picture of him and how your relationship started.’ She sips demurely at her coffee, eyes wide and innocent. ‘It’s not my fault if your dad happened to interpret the information negatively.’  


Stiles moans unhappily. ‘You are evil incarnate, you really are! And actually, it turns out my dad _can_ do something, because he wants Derek to visit this summer. Like, come over and stay with us in Beacon Hills. Where my dad is the Sheriff.’ He collapses on to the till, pressing his face into his arms. ‘I am going to _die_ ’, he mumbles.  


‘Don’t be stupid Stiles’, Lydia says sharply. ‘Of course you’re not going to die.’ She pauses for a moment, clearly thinking. ‘Well, not unless you get hit by a bus, or you unexpectedly have a heart attack. Anyway, the point is, it’s going to be fine. We’ll go back to Beacon Hills, everyone will fawn over us because we’re wonderful, and then Derek will arrive and everyone will fawn over _him_ because he belongs on the front of GQ and his accent is delicious. Then Derek will charm your father with his good manners, encyclopaedic knowledge of literature, and deep appreciation of home-cooked food. It’ll be fine.’ As an afterthought, she adds, ‘And you’ll get laid too. So it’s win-win really.’  


Stiles raises his head from the counter to stare at her. ‘You’re perfect’, he says. ‘You know that right? I mean, you are literally perfect.’  


Lydia rolls her eyes. ‘Yes Stiles, I know that I’m perfect. Now can you stop emoting all over the place and go and do some work? The Russian literature section is in a _disgusting_ state.’  


Stiles snaps out a salute. ‘Yes Ma’am!’ he says, throwing a cheeky grin in Lydia’s direction when she scowls at him, and then running away before she has a chance to kick him in the shins.

* * *

A few days later finds Stiles and Derek sprawled on the bank of the Cherwell, soaking up the sun on a rare day of good weather. Derek’s shirt is off and Stiles is trying very, _very_ hard to keep his thoughts pure and innocent and free of licking and touching and following treasure trails. It’s not going well so far.  


‘You are unfair’, Stiles says petulantly, after another five minutes of watching Derek’s muscles move when he breathes. ‘You are unfair and I do not like you.’  


Derek doesn’t even open his eyes, just chuckles, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. ‘You put up with me because I like your cooking and I’m really good in bed’, he says. ‘And because _I_ put up with _you_.’ He has a point there, even if it’s a rude one.  


‘You have a point’, Stiles says. ‘But I’m still reserving the right to disagree with you and deny you sex for the next couple of days.’  


Derek chuckles again. ‘Good luck with that’, he says, because he’s an insufferable asshole, who unfortunately knows all too well that Stiles has about as much willpower as a wet tissue when it comes to turning down sex. Stiles sticks out his tongue in retaliation and stares up at the sky moodily, imagining a world where he is revered and worshipped by everyone he knows. It’s a nice fantasy.  


Eventually he sighs, coming back to reality, where (unfortunately) no slaves are waiting to feed him gourmet hamburgers and curly fries. ‘So my dad wants to meet you’, he says. ‘He thinks you should come over and stay for a while when Lydia and I go back home.’  


Derek grunts, his eyes still closed. Stiles sighs. ‘You know, I don’t actually speak Neanderthal, so you’re going to need to try that again, in English. Come on big boy, use your words.’  


Derek says nothing. For the first time since this plan came into being, it occurs to Stiles that Derek might actually say no, and that all Stiles’ worrying will be for nothing. It makes him feel a little bit sick and he’s not sure why.  


Of course, this means he defaults to babbling. ‘Well ok, I guess we can try out our psychic link if you really want, but I still think words would work better. Anyway, I guess this whole stoically silent means you’re not going to visit, which is totally ok by the way – it’s fine. I mean, flights are super-pricey and yeah, September is a little bit cheaper, but not much. Besides, we haven’t even been together six months yet and I guess the ‘meet the parents’ thing is kind of intense, especially when the parent is in another country and owns a gun and stuff. So it’s ok, just forget-’  


At that moment Derek _growls_ and flips over with his usual freakish super-speed. He’s pressing Stiles into the grass in seconds, shutting him up very effectively by dint of making out. His mouth is hot and insistent against Stiles’ and yeah, if he keeps this up, Stiles is going to have to have to suggest they go home before they get arrested for public indecency.  


Thankfully (or not) at that moment, Derek rolls off Stiles and goes back to lying on the grass, hands under his head and eyes shut. ‘You’re an eejit, Stiles’, he says, his voice a little rough.  


Stiles tries manfully to ignore the fact that he is currently the king of boner-land and flails a bit in Derek’s general direction. ‘But that doesn’t mean _anything_!’ he says. ‘You can’t just distract me with making out! That is – that is _not_ allowed, ok?’  


Derek cracks an eye open, looking unimpressed. ‘You know, I think you might actually be able to talk my mother into submission’, he says. Then he sighs. ‘Look, I was always going to come and visit you, ok? I don’t have much planned for September anyway, and it’s not like I can’t take time off from the bar. And the flights are fine – nothing I can’t afford.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Now will you quit worrying and just enjoy the sunshine? God knows when we’ll get another day like this.’  


Stiles gapes at Derek. Then he smiles. ‘Yeah, alright Moody O’Broody.’ Then he leans over and kisses Derek – mainly because he can – soft and sweet. ‘Also, you’re awesome. And I take back everything I ever said about withholding sex. It was all lies and I didn’t mean a word of it.’ He takes a look at Derek and makes a face. ‘Ok, ok, I’m being quiet now!’  


Five minutes later, he mutters, ‘Sourwolf.’

* * *

‘You know, as sickening as all the tonguing was, you and Derek saying goodbye was actually verging on cute’, Lydia says as they make their way to the departure lounge. ‘You really like him, don’t you?’  


Stiles nods. ‘Yeah, I really do. I mean, he can be a total dick sometimes, he clearly has problems functioning like a normal human being around 60% of the time, and he is _stupidly_ attractive, but I really, really like him.’ Lydia laughs.  


‘Only you would count ‘stupidly attractive’ as a bad thing.’ She grabs Stiles’ hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘It’s ok to miss him. I mean, you guys have been seeing each other like four days out every seven, right? Two weeks without any face time is obviously going to be hard.’  


Stiles nods again. ‘It sounds so unhealthy when you put it like that’, he jokes. ‘I guess I kind of didn’t realise how full on things between us have been until now. It _is_ going to be weird though.’ He shrugs, trying to shift the feeling of melancholy that’s settling on him. ‘Whatever. It’s only two weeks. Besides, it’s not like we’re not going to have stupid amounts of stuff to do at home anyway.’  


Lydia grins at him. ‘Positive attitudes are the way to go’, she says. ‘Now let’s go and find a bar – if we’re not going to be able to buy alcohol for a month, I want to be at _least_ halfway wasted when we get on the plane.’  


And really, there’s no arguing with that.

* * *

Coming home is pretty awesome, not least because the last time Stiles saw his dad was nearly a year ago. He is completely unashamed about the few manly tears that make their way down his cheeks as they hug at the airport, because hey, real men can admit to having emotions! He chooses to totally ignore the fact that his dad is looking teary too. Apparently there is only so much manly emotion a man can handle.  


Anyway, they go home and they eat burgers and Stiles practically falls asleep at the dinner table because transatlantic flights are a _bitch_. Under strict orders from his father, he heads upstairs and collapses on his bed, falling asleep almost moments after his head touches the pillow.  


Of course, his sleep cycle is _all wrong_ for the next few days (which makes him kind of tetchy) and it’s always a little weird readjusting to the home routine, but it’s cool. For starters, he gets to see his dad every day, which is many flavours of awesome. Plus he and Derek have really, _really_ hot phone sex one night when his dad is working a night shift. Stiles decides that it’s one activity they’re definitely going to be doing more often in the future – Derek’s voice (his _accent_ ) is just made for dirty talk.  


His dad and Derek aside, it’s also been really good catching up with everyone from school. The obvious person is Scott, who Stiles loves like a brother – although an admittedly slightly dumb brother. Scott has been Stiles’ best friend since kindergarten, and despite kind of a doofus, he’s actually a really nice guy. He always means well and is always looking out for people, which Stiles likes.  


With Scott comes Allison, because the pair of them have kind of been a package deal since sophomore year of high school. They’re utterly sickening as a couple (something everyone can agree on), because they are dopily, stupidly in love. Besotted, one might say. And they’re still going strong which is cool, especially considering that they’re long distance – Scott is at the local community college, whereas Allison is nearly five hours drive away in San Francisco. They see each other at weekends mostly.  


Anyway, Allison is great. Stiles resented her a lot when she first started dating Scott, mainly because Scott spent the entire of his time either with Allison, or talking about Allison. Stiles soon realised this was pretty much because Scott is a bad friend, and also realised that Allison was a seriously cool girl. Ok, her family is vaguely terrifying and she has mad-crazy skills with a bow and arrow, but she’s also a total sweetie and really good to talk to.  


Allison is also the one who elbows Scott in the ribs when he starts gaping right after Stiles says that Derek’s coming for a visit in a week or so.  


‘Dude, you’re gay?’ Scott says, looking shocked. Stiles and Allison both look at him like he’s an idiot. Which, to be fair, he kind of is.  


‘No, man, I’m bisexual’, Stiles says, rolling his eyes. ‘World of difference there.’  


Scott still looks bemused. ‘But… since when do you like guys?’ Stiles and Allison start looking at him like he’s mad. It’s definitely a possibility.  


‘Scott, I told you I was interested in a guy. And then I told you I was in relationship _with a guy_. I’m also pretty sure I told you all this like six months ago’, Stiles says patiently.  


Scott shakes his head. ‘No, you didn’t.’  


Stiles nods at him slowly. ‘Uh, yes I did. I distinctly remember it because a) it was about 4am and I was crazy tired, b) I was effectively coming out to you, which is fairly memorable, and c) because you asked me if that was why I always used to ask if Danny found me attractive. And then you told me it was totally cool so long as I didn’t try and have a threesome with you and Allison – which by the way, was not a mental image that I _ever_ wanted, no offence Allison.’  


Scott still looks blank. ‘Dude, I don’t remember this at _all_. Was I high or something?’ Stiles rolls his eyes again.  


‘Probably. Look, whatever. I’m bisexual now. I have a boyfriend. His name is Derek, and he’s coming to visit soon. If you could try and remember that and act like a normal human being when he shows up, that’d be great.’  


‘But-’ Scott starts to say.  


Stiles cuts him off. ‘No ‘but’, ok? My brain is really starting to hurt and I don’t think I can physically handle any more idiocy right now. I’m going to get some coffee.’ And then he leaves, because he’s getting a headache and slight caffeine withdrawal.  


It still makes him laugh when he hears Scott saying (somewhat piteously) ‘Stiles has got really mean since he went to college. Do you think it’s his boyfriend rubbing off on him, or just Lydia?’

* * *

He also catches up with Danny (who is awesome) and Jackson (who really isn’t), which proves to be a strange mixture of ego-boosting and insanely annoying. They have – of course – heard all about Stiles’ current transferral to ‘the other team’ as it were, and Danny has seen pictures of Derek, courtesy of Lydia.  


‘He’s hot’, Danny says. ‘Like, super, super hot. I’m actually jealous of you, and I’d never thought I’d say that.’  


Jackson looks as bored as ever. ‘If he’s so hot, why is he with Stiles?’ Valid point, but really not something Stiles wants to be reminded about. He flips Jackson the bird.  


Danny rolls his eyes at the pair of them. ‘Quit it, Jackson. You’re just jealous that Stiles scored someone hotter than you.’  


‘He’s not hotter than me!’ Jackson says indignantly.  


‘He totally is’, Lydia says, sliding into the booth to sit next to Stiles. ‘And he’s Irish, so there is literally _no_ chance of you coming off better in comparison.’ Jackson glares at her. She smiles sweetly back at him in a way that totally belies the fact she eats the dreams of small children for breakfast. ‘You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I really miss England. The coffee here is just _not_ the same standard.’  


‘The curly fries here are better though’, Stiles says, because although he agrees with her, it feels slightly disloyal to admit that the US is inferior in any way. Lydia just shrugs.  


‘Seeing as I don’t ingest things that have a high likelihood of giving me heart problems – coffee aside – I wouldn’t know. Whatever. I’m totally over shitty coffee and not being able to drink. I want to go back now.’  


Danny chuckles. ‘Why did you come back home then?’ he asks.  


Lydia makes a face. ‘If I hadn’t come home, I wouldn’t have been able to guilt my parents into giving me any new clothes. Besides, I missed you guys. Well, with the possible exception Jackson.’ She grins mercilessly and Jackson scowls at her again. Stiles ignores them as they start fighting – which involves Jackson being sulky and Lydia being the queen of sarcastic put-downs – and focuses on his food, which is both unhealthy and delicious.  


‘How’s your dad handling this?’ Danny asks, while Lydia and Jackson bicker in the back ground. Stiles swallows a mouth of food hastily.  


‘Well, I think he was maybe a little surprised about the whole dating a guy thing to start with, but then _someone_ ’, he says, narrowing his eyes at Lydia, ‘decided to give him the Derek Hale 101 and then he started worrying that I was being taken advantage of by the big bad Irishman. If he doesn’t make some speech about having contacts all around the world and legal access to many, many guns when they meet each other, I will be very surprised.’  


Danny chuckles. ‘It’s kind of adorable how protective he is of you. Anyone would think you were a girl from the way he talks about you sometimes.’ Stiles rolls his eyes.  


‘Thanks for that Danny – great self-esteem boost there.’ Danny shrugs.  


‘I’m just saying. Anyway, what do you care? You have an insanely hot boyfriend who’s coming to visit you in like, a week. Besides, if Derek’s managed to survive Lydia, do you really think that your dad’s going to be that much of a problem?’  


Stiles feels a surge of affection for Danny that has nothing to do with his ridiculously awesome dimples. ‘That is a very valid point’, he says. ‘Very valid.’ And he actually stops worrying about Derek’s visit for a day or two.  


Of course, by the time Derek is due to arrive, the worrying is back in full force. It’s also spread from just being concerned how his dad will react to Derek and whether they’ll get on, to whether Derek will get on with _any_ of Stiles’ friends aside from Lydia, to what he’ll think of Beacon Hills and the Stilinski house, to a million other tiny little thing that niggle at Stiles until he’s a ball of frenetic energy, constantly fidgeting and unable to sleep.  


His hands beat an impatient tattoo on the wheel of his beloved jeep (who is his baby girl and who he missed deeply while he was away) as he drives towards LAX. By the time he’s waiting in the arrivals area, his leg is twitching and his fingers tap anxiously against his thighs. He’s just starting to feel like he might be heading for a panic attack when 

Derek comes through the gate, as gorgeous as ever in his usual leather jacket, a bag slung over his shoulder.  


Stiles’ heart _thumps_ in his chest, and his face splits into a grin so wide that it kind of hurts. The best thing though, is the way Derek’s face lights up when he catches sight of Stiles, and how Stiles just feels all the tension that’s been gathering in his shoulders bleeding away into nothingness.  


‘Hey’, he says, and _wow_ , Stiles, great opening line. Derek just carries on smiling.  


‘Hey’, he says back, his voice a little rougher than usual. ‘I missed you.’ And that’s really all it takes for Stiles to grab his face and kiss him until they’re both a little breathless. 

Then Stiles grabs Derek bag in one hand, and his hand in the other and tugs him towards the exit.  


‘Come on. You must be sick of airports by now.’

* * *

Derek falls asleep on the way back to Beacon Hills, which is probably the most adorable thing Stiles has ever seen in his life. Then he has to go and _growl_ when Stiles tries to wake him up, which is possibly even _more_ adorable. Still, despite his urge just to leave Derek sleeping because, as previously mentioned, _adorable_ , Stiles does actually wake him up – that is, after snapping some photos for posterity/blackmail. Some opportunities are too good to miss.  


Derek is still sleepy and looking a little dazed as they head up the path to the porch. Stiles is fumbling in his pocket for his house keys when the front door swings open to reveal John Stilinski, dressed in Sheriff’s uniform. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him – a very suspicious eyebrow, because he knows his dad’s shift isn’t for another four hours, so there’s no reason for him to be in uniform just yet – and gets completely ignored. His dad runs his eye over Derek in an assessing way, then sticks out his hand.  


‘Hi there. You must be Derek. I’m Stiles’ dad.’  


Derek stares at the proffered hand for a minute, sleepily rubs his free hand over his face (and he is so _cute_ when he’s just woken up, ugh) and then shakes said hand. ‘Hi’, he says, his voice morning-rough and annoyingly hot. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I really appreciate you having me to stay.’  


Stiles can pretty much pinpoint the exact moment where his father falls under Derek’s spell – it’s somewhere between the firm handshake (‘Son, you can always judge a man by his handshake’), Derek’s perfect, hot as hell, tired-looking face, and his delicious accent. He makes a mental note to tell Lydia that she is a both a goddess and also possibly a prophet, while resisting the urge to do a victory dance.  


‘None of this ‘sir’, crap’, his dad says, his face softening. ‘You can call me John.’ He nods to Derek’s bag. ‘You need a hand with that?’  


Derek shakes his head. ‘No thank you, John. I wouldn’t mind putting it down though.’  


Stiles dad nods, gesturing for them to come in. ‘Sure, sure. Stiles, can you show Derek up to the guest room please? I’ll start working on dinner.’ Then he coughs, looking a little self-conscious. ‘And keep the door open please.’  


Stiles holds back a groan, laces his fingers through Derek’s and tugs him towards the stairs. They tramp upstairs, then into the guest bedroom, where Derek drops his bag with a thump and a grateful sigh, before he sprawls back on the bed. Stiles bounces down next to him, poking him sharply in the ribs.  


‘You can’t go back to sleep or you won’t be able to sleep tonight and you’ll feel even more like shit tomorrow’, he says, because he is a _good_ boyfriend. It’s not like he gets any kind of twisted satisfaction from Derek’s pitiful whine of exhaustion. Not at all. Still, he won’t deny that poking Derek until he sits up is kind of fun, as is the growling that it creates and the part where Derek pins him to the bed.  


‘Wait, no, look, my dad is probably listening in from the bottom of the stairs right now’, he gasps as Derek bites down on his neck – probably hard enough to bruise, knowing his luck. Derek ignores him. Stiles tries not to make sex noises and ends up physically shoving Derek off him. Or rather, because Derek is like a mountain and Stiles is like a very small hill, or a boulder or something, he just about manages to get Derek off his neck.  


‘Look, he’s working the night shift tonight – probably because he thinks you’ll be too tired to do anything but sleep – so if you want to maul my neck you can do it then, ok?’ Stiles says quickly, keeping his voice low enough not to be overheard. ‘But there cannot be any fooling around until then. None. Nada. Non.’  


‘Stiles, those words mean ‘no’, not ‘none’’, Derek growls.  


‘Yeah, and?’ Stiles retorts. ‘The point stands – no neck mauling, no dry humping, no orgasms, no _nothing_ – not until tonight.’ He struggles and squirms and manages to get out of the Derek-shaped prison he’s in and stands up, flushed and breathing hard. ‘Exercise a little self-control, yeah? Keep your inner Neanderthal or wolf or whatever it is in check.’  


Derek glares at him. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?’ he says, sounding just a little grumpy. Stiles shoots him a shit-eating grin, because he’s a dick and he can.  


‘Yep’, he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. ‘But you knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. You’ve pretty much lost all right to complain.’  


The look Derek sends him could melt lead at ten paces. Stiles cheerfully ignores it – Lydia’s glares are _far_ more intimidating.

* * *

Dinner goes surprisingly well, considering that John and Derek have next to nothing in common and that Stiles is still kind of waiting for his dad to break into his ‘I am the big scary sheriff and I demand to know your intentions towards my defenceless little boy’ speech. Thankfully, the speech is not forthcoming and Derek somehow manages to make conversation that is both interesting and totally neutral. All in all, Stiles feels able to breathe a little easier. But he’s still super glad when his dad leaves for work.  


Apparently Derek is too, because the moment the patrol car has pulled out of the driveway he _pounces_ (which definitely does not help with Stiles thinking of him as a wolf man) and drags Stiles upstairs. And yes, good, awesome, but _not_ in the guest bedroom where his dad will know exactly what went on.  


‘My room, my room’, he manages to gasp between kisses. Thankfully, Derek listens to him and then there are no more protests to be voiced, or really any words at all, except for the odd, ‘Oh _fuck_ ’, or, ‘please’, and ‘ _don’t stop_ ’. What there _is_ instead is a lot of filthy, filthy kisses, followed by equally filthy foreplay, followed by awesome sex which almost breaks the bed. Well, ok, a little more than _almost_ , but Stiles figures he can fix it up so that nobody will notice. Besides, it was totally worth it.  


The next morning, he wakes up feeling deliciously fucked and hugely grateful for the fact that today is laundry day, so he can wash his sheets without any awkward questions from his dad. Of course there’s the problem of the violently purple hickeys trailing down his neck and across his torso (Derek’s a biter – it figures), but being best friends with Lydia has certain advantages – Stiles can now apply concealer like a pro.  


He also makes a huge breakfast for himself and Derek, because he likes cooking and he _loves_ the way Derek kisses him when he’s well-fed and grateful. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski is unmotivated. His motivation is just… specific. And lately, more often than not, Derek-related. Whatever. The point is, there’s Derek and breakfast and kisses and it’s _awesome_.  


Unfortunately, after the breakfast and the kisses comes taking Derek to meet all Stiles’ so-called friends. Despite the fact that Derek and his dad got along just fine, Stiles is still worried. After all, Scott = doofus. Jackson = douchebag supreme. Danny = hot, hot gay guy with unreal dimples and the general persona of a sunbeam, who Derek might decide he prefers over Stiles. Allison… yeah she’s fine. Still, one out of four isn’t exactly reassuring.  


Once again though, it turns out that he needn’t have worried. Ok, so Scott’s eyes grow huge and disbelieving when he meets Derek and he spends the rest of the day looking like he’s just found out that storks don’t really bring people babies (and it’s actually possible that Scott really _doesn’t_ know that), and Jackson does that kind of lip curl that signifies he’s feeling inferior and is therefore pissed off, but otherwise things go surprisingly well. Derek and Danny don’t start gazing hungrily at each other, or disappear on some flimsy excuse and come back looking all rumpled and hickeyfied. Nobody punches anybody and Lydia only threatens to wear Jackson’s testicles as earrings once.  


And after the initial awkward meet and greet, they all go out for lunch, which winds up actually being pretty fun. They get the big table in Mary’s Diner, which Stiles has been coming to his whole life, and they order more food than they can possibly eat. Derek and Allison wind up deep in conversation about Kit Marlowe and Doctor Faustus, which means that everyone else cheerfully ignores them for most of the meal. Lydia is, as ever, her delightful snarky self. Jackson gets over himself enough to stop being a total dick and join Stiles in making fun of Scott. Danny just watches everyone with a kind of weary patience, occasionally throwing the odd bit of bread at someone when he’s bored. It’s easy and it’s relaxed and Stiles forgets why he was worrying in the first place.  


Then they go bowling, which brings out everyone’s horribly competitive side (except Lydia and Jackson, who have already established themselves at the most competitive people in the world. _Ever_.) but is hilarious. Derek turns out to be some weird bowling wunderkind which means that he and Lydia tie for top position, leaving Jackson sulking in second place. Stiles still sucks, but Scott’s just as bad, so he’s not too fussed in the long run. Besides, it’s not really about who wins or loses – in Stiles’ book, anyway – it’s about being there with everyone.  


When they _finally_ get home (after midnight, because there was also dinner and then a movie and Stiles is pretty sure he has popcorn in his boxers because of Jackson) Derek kisses him under the porch light like it’s their third date and everything is happening for the first time. It’s sweet and long and slow, making Stiles weak at the knees.  


‘I’m really glad you came to stay’, Stiles says when they pull apart. His face is buried in the crook of Derek’s neck and he breathes deep, inhaling the familiar scent of skin. Derek’s hand is in his hair, fingers moving softly against his scalp.  


‘Me too’, he says. ‘I like that I get to see your home and meet your dad and your friends. I like that I get to see this side of you.’  


Stiles smiles into Derek’s neck. ‘Dude, you sound like something out of a chick flick. Did Scott give you a joint or something?’ He expects some kind of snarky comeback, or maybe a little light physical abuse. He certainly does _not_ expect what comes next.  


‘I love you’, Derek says. He sounds perfectly calm and totally self-assured. Stiles’ heart skips a beat.  


He pulls back a bit and looks at Derek, taking in the way the light casts shadows on his face and catches in his eyes. He feels a blush rolling up his own cheeks and bites his lip to hold in the joy he feels bubbling up in his chest. Still, he can’t keep the smile which blossoms on his face.  


‘I love you too’, he says quietly, and he means it with his whole heart. Then he leans in for another kiss. Except what starts out as sweet and tender gets a little deeper and dirtier, heading towards downright indecent as Derek’s hands slide up under his shirt.  


Above them, a window bangs open. ‘Stiles, quit necking on the porch and get inside.’  


Cursing his father’s freaky parental powers and blushing a fierce shade of red, Stiles pulls away from Derek, tugging him over to the front door and then inside. He’s about to move in for another kiss when his dad’s voice comes down the stairs.  


‘ _Stiles_. Stop making out with Derek and go to bed. And don’t even _think_ about trying to sneak into each other’s rooms.’  


Stiles groans. ‘I _hate_ my dad’, he mumbles. ‘He’s the worst.’  


Derek just chuckles. ‘You haven’t met my mother yet’, he says. ‘You know nothing about awful parents.’  


Stiles just grins like a maniac, because he cannot _wait_ to meet Derek’s mother. He has a sneaking suspicion they’ll get on beautifully. ‘Well that’s just something to look forward to I guess’, he says, his tone gleeful.  


Derek’s despairing groan tells him everything he needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you enjoyed this! Personally, I had a lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Anyway, at some point in the future, you might just to see Stiles heading over to Ireland to meet the Hales. Sound good?
> 
> (Also, as a side note for anyone who doesn't know, Oxford and Cambridge start their autumn terms in early October)


End file.
